


The Run and Go

by WoahThereSparky



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Angst, Bill is so obvious it's hilarious, Bill's both the best and worst criminal you'll ever see, Breaking and Entering, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Minor Character Death, More tags to be added, Prohibition Era, Rating will go up, a good dose of fluff, alcohol guns and violence oh my, so is Dipper, there will be far too many puns, there will be lots of flirting on bills part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6373729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoahThereSparky/pseuds/WoahThereSparky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once in his life, everything is looking up for Dipper Pines. After publishing his first book, he moves to the city with his sister to find inspiration and focus on his writing. Dipper's life becomes peaceful and uneventful, exactly the way he likes it.<br/>Until the notorious mafia boss, Bill Cipher, breaks into his apartment and exposes him to a dark side of Chicago that he was not ready to explore. He soon realizes that behind the guns and glamour, the gangster is not who he appears to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Should Probably Introduce Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include:  
> Breaking and entering  
> Alcohol consumption  
> Various weapons

When Dipper woke up, the last thing he expected to see was a shadowy figure climbing in through his open window at three in the morning. He bolted upright and screamed, scrambling as far away as he could from the intruder. As soon as the shriek was heard, the person fell rather ungracefully off the windowsill onto the floor of the apartment, with a loud exclamation of profanity. Dipper stared at the dark lump on the floor before gathering up enough courage to yell at the stranger.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

After a moment with no response, Dipper’s shaky hand reached over to his bedside table and flicked on the lamp that rested there. It washed the room with a weak yellow light, illuminating the man that was rising from the floor.  
He wore a white button up whose sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, a pitch black bow tie perched on the collar.

“Well it’s nice to meet you too.” The man grumbled.

He removed his hat, revealing a head of light blond hair, and placed it on his chest. He bent forward in the sarcastic imitation of a bow.

“Do excuse me dear neighbor, but I seemed to have climbed into the wrong window again.”

He placed the hat upon his head once again and smoothly hopped up onto the window sill, before jumping out into the night. Dipper watched, dumbfounded as the man leaped towards the building only a few feet away from his own, catching himself on the ledge. He hoisted himself up and swung gracefully into the window, disappearing from view. Dipper stared out his own window for what seemed like an eternity, before resting his head on the pillow once again. As he drifted off to sleep that night, he found his mind wandering to the apartment across the street from his own.

Dipper had not spoken to the blond since the accidental break in. He continued on with his daily routine as he had before, making sure he called his sister, Mabel, every week. She had stayed in the quiet little town of Gravity Falls that the twins grew up in when Dipper moved to the Chicago. She made a living off of sewing clothes for the townspeople, and often threatened to pack up her things and move in with him when her twin was not taking care of himself properly. He often forgot to get groceries, which was easy to do considering how seldom Dipper left his home. He would get wrapped up in his writing and sleeping or feeding himself would completely slip his mind. His social interactions were also kept to a minimum, as he preferred to stay in his apartment writing through the night. 

  
When the words wouldn’t flow on to the page like they could before, his gaze would travel upwards. He often found himself staring at the other’s window until the familiar light warmed the room across the alley late at night.

One such night, Dipper was lost in thought and staring absentmindedly out the window wondering why the man always came home at such ungodly hours. A loud knock broke him from his daze, followed by several more urgent thumps on the door. He jumped out of his chair, hurrying over to the door as the pounding continued, swinging it open.

“Long time no see kid.” The tall man from weeks ago stood on the other side, his eyes flicking over his shoulder as he spoke. Dipper stiffened, fear roiling in the pit of his stomach. 

"What do you want from me?"  
The taller man smiled, resting his arm on the frame of the door 

"Your hospitality." 

"No." Dipper started to close the door, but a foot quickly moved to prevent it from shutting. 

"I'm not in the mood for playing games today. Let me in." he ordered, gritting his teeth. 

“Give me one good reason why I should do that.” Dipper crossed his arms, glaring at the man in front of him. As he spoke, his voice lowered in volume.

“I’m being followed, and I don’t think the gents trying to bump me off would appreciate having you as a witness.” 

"What? Who's trying to kill you?" 

"Well if we stand here much longer, you'll find out." 

Dipper took a moment to weigh his options before sighing and allowing the other in, locking the door behind him. When he turned around, the blond had already made himself at home, seated comfortably on his couch. 

Dipper warily sat down on the chair opposite to where the other was sitting. The man smirked at his obvious nerves and pulled out a flask from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. 

"Seems to be time for introductions, the name's Bill." Dipper raised an eyebrow at the flask, ignoring the fact that Bill had said anything. 

“Is that hooch?”

“No, I’m carrying pop around with me. Yes, it’s hooch, you want a taste?” 

“I’d rather not get arrested, thanks.”

“Alright bluenose.” Bill snorted, taking a swig.

“You know what? I will take some.” Dipper snatched the flask away from him, taking a large gulp of the liquid before coughing and rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeesh, don't hack up a lung on me here” He took the container back from him, careless of whether or not he spilled anything. 

“How do you drink that stuff, it’s horrible!" 

"When you've got a good enough reason, you'll do just about anything to forget it." Bill broke his train of thought to take a drink. 

"What's your name anyway, kid?" Dipper grumbled at being called a child again, but replied none the less.

"Why should I tell you? You're probably some sort of hardened criminal who's looking to off me the second he gets a chance."

"Fair enough, let me assuage your fears then. "

Bill unbuttoned his suit jacket, reaching inside it to fish a pair of brass knuckles out of a concealed pocket. He slipped off the jacket all together to reveal two shoulder holsters. He then removed a pair of black revolvers, placing all three items on the table in front of them. Dipper’s eyes widened and he began spluttering, staring at the pistols as Bill reached into the right pocket of his slacks.. He withdrew a pocket knife, tossing it down on to the steadily growing pile of weapons. 

“That’s all I’m packing, feel better?”

“Y-You expect me to feel safe when you’re armed to the teeth?” Dipper stammered, his eyes flicking back and forth between the other man and the table.

"No, but now you know there's less of a chance that I'll murder you in your sleep." 

"Like I'll be able to sleep knowing there's some kind of mobster in my living room." Dipper grumbled back, before the true situation dawned on him. 

"Wait a second, you're staying the night?" 

"Believe me, I wouldn't be if I had any other option. You're not exactly a joy to be around." 

"Fuck, I can't believe this is happening." He rubbed his temples, leaning back in his chair, before looking back at Bill once more. 

"If I find one single thing out of place here, I'm calling the cops." The blond waved away Dipper's comment without a single trace of fear. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Calling the heat won't do shit, but if I wanted to kill you I would have done it already." 

"How do I know you won't, when you still have all of this?" He motioned towards the weapons on the table, clearly nervous of the other's presence. 

“Until I leave, you can hide these wherever you’d like Pine Tree.”

“Pine Tree?” He questioned. Bill pointed at the painting hanging on the wall across from them. It was a picture Mabel had made for him, depicting a forest of tall pines overlooking a lake. He thought of his sister then, knowing that she would kill him if she knew about the man currently in his living room.

He stood up and eyed the pile with uncertainty, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Any of these loaded?”

“Safety’s on, and it’s pretty hard to shoot yourself just by picking it up.” 

Dipper began carefully loading the weapons into his arms, carrying them off to his room. He paused at the door frame and turned back to Bill.

“Be gone by morning. I really don’t want to get mixed up in whatever you do.”

“I make no promises kid.”  
He sighed in defeat, his gaze meeting Bill’s as he stretched out on the sofa. The blond smirked, refusing to break eye contact with the other as he spoke.

“Sweet dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this work was based off the song: The Run and Go by Twenty One Pilots  
> The title of this chapter was based off the song: Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time by Panic! at the Disco


	2. You Think it's Over Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include:  
> Mention of hospitals  
> Projectiles

At first, Dipper had done his best to ignore his neighbor, which was difficult to do considering the copious amount of things being thrown in his window. Nearly every day, a paper airplane slid into his room, as Bill watched from his apartment. Dipper would then pick up the piece of paper, maintaining eye contact as he dropped it into the waste paper basket. He then closed his window, the man across the way frowning before turning back into his home. 

This continued for several days, until a deafening thunk rang out in the brunette's apartment, causing him to jump up from his desk. Frantically looking around, his eyes landed on the wooden floor in front of him. There, laying upside down, was a clear paperweight with a note attached to the bottom. Glaring out his window at the currently chuckling man, he reached down to pick up the paper, opening it.

_Pine tree,_  
Next time I'm using a brick.  
-Bill 

Dipper stepped over to the open window, sticking his head out of it, still giving the blond the evil eye. 

"Were you trying to break my window?"

"Actually yes, though my aim was a little low." Bill smiled lightly to himself, leaning one arm on the window in front of him. 

Dipper frowned, still uncomfortable conversing with this man. Sure, Bill never stole his valuables during the unfortunate night he spent on the brunette’s couch, but he could not shake the nervous feeling brewing in his stomach. The other was dangerous, that’s for sure. He saw no appeal in joining in on gang business, but the man did intrigue him, providing a puzzle that he could not piece together yet. He spent several moments debating if he wanted to continue speaking with the blonde, before being snapped back into reality. 

Bill’s two fingers, pressed together and held out to Dipper slipped to create the loud pop again.  
“You still in there Pine Tree?”

“Unfortunately” he grumbled, deciding to consult Mabel on the matter later.

“Anyway, I’ll cut to the chase. I’m going out tonight.”

“Your point being?” Dipper drawled out

“A few good friends of mine are unable to perform their duties, so consider this your invitation to stop being a wet blanket.” 

“You know chucking things at other people’s windows isn’t the best persuasive technique“

“It worked for you” he pointed out.

“Why can’t your friends just go with you?”

“They’re ten feet under.”  
Bill responded in a calm and even tone. At this point, he had become accustom to death in general. His business partners would drop dead quite often, not to mention his white shirts were constantly being scrubbed in pink water. 

Dipper stood at the window for a moment, mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed, before emphatically delivering his response.  
“Fuck no.”

“Oh come on, you won’t be doing anything kid, I just get lonely going out by myself.”

“Double no.” There was a short beat before Bill spoke up, his voice sly.

“If you don’t I’ll keep the brick promise.”

Dipper took a moment to weigh his options, but replacing a window simply wasn’t in his budget. Then again, neither were hospital bills. After a long pause, Dipper ran his hands through the curly mess of his hair, before slumping down slightly.

“What time”

Bill glanced down at his golden watch  
“Now.”

The brunette rubbed his temples and sighed before putting both hands on the window.

“I’ll be outside in five minutes” he grumbled before slamming the window shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for being so extremely slow between updates. Life hit me like a truck, and I've been going through a shit ton of personal stuff at once.  
> I read over this chapter several times, but chances are I'll have to go back and edit it because I am very tired and my brain is starting to go bleeeh.  
> Also this and the next chapter were supposed to be one long one, but I really wanted to get something published, so two short(er) ones happened.  
> Thank you for all your wonderful comments, kudos, bookmarks, and everything else, I really do appreciate them!
> 
> Oh, and one last thing! I have a slight chapter by chapter plot going, but if anyone has any ideas (whether it's in what way to break Dipper's window next time or a plot prompt) feel free to leave them in the comments, and I'll credit you if I use it! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!  
> Chapter title is based off the song: Spark by Fitz and the Tantrums


	3. You're Still Burning Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include:  
> Mentions of weapons  
> Implied gang violence  
> Illegal activities  
> LOTS of alcohol consumption

The bar was not nearly what Dipper had expected. Rather than dragging him into a dark cellar with a few lone drunks, Bill took him somewhere substantially less creepy. Of course, the contents Dipper’s stomach swirled as he was yanked into an alleyway by Bill with a yelp, but that was to be expected. To his surprise, a knock, a word, and laugh was all it took for the door swing open, letting the two into an entirely new world. 

Dipper marveled at the atmosphere, twisting his head around to take in every detail. The lighting mirrored the sun, warming the entire room with a pleasant yellow glow. Laughter and light banter flowed lazily into his ears, as his eyes flitted around the mahogany walls. 

“Was I right, or was I right?” Bill said, a grin splitting his face as he looked over to Dipper. He found it difficult to tear his eyes away as the two walked over to the crowded bar.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Dipper shot back, chuckling to himself at his own remark. The bartender soon came over, a young man with hair as black as the alley they just stepped out of, to take their drink orders. 

“I’ll get my usual, and something easy for the little guy over here.” Bill drawled out, fishing a small amount of cash out of his pocket as Dipper sent a glare his way, “And it’s good to see you all in one piece Tad, I couldn’t be sure after the last job I sent you on.”

Tad chuckled, as he reached under the bar to grab a few bottles, “You kidding? That was a piece of cake. You really underestimate me, Cipher.” He looked over at Dipper, raising an eyebrow and turning to Bill.

“Oh, him? I think this one’s going to be a new friend of ours.” Tad nodded at Dipper, finishing up the drinks.

“You got a name, kid?”

Nervously, Dipper began to reply, before being cut off by Bill.  
“Pine Tree.”

Tad nodded, putting the two beverages on the bar counter, “Alright, enjoy your whiskey Cipher. And keep this kid out of trouble, he doesn’t need any more than what you’ve already given him.” Bill chuckled once again, side eyeing Dipper with a mischievous look.

“Oh believe me, I’ve just begun corrupting this one.”

Luckily, Dipper was too busy staring at his drink like it was planning on shooting him to notice Bill.

“Jeez kid, you’ll be fine. This stuff is so good they call it the Bee’s Knees.” Dipper looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“Seriously? Out of all the things they could have named it, they chose that?”

Bill shrugged and began downing his whiskey at an alarming rate. The other began shifting nervously, before looking back up at Bill.

“So what’s in this thing anyway?”'

“Gin, honey, and a bit of lemon. You can barely taste the booze, so don’t get your panties in a twist over that.” He worried his lip between his teeth, slowly picking up the drink, holding it just in front of him.

“Look, it doesn’t bite. Just try the damn thing before I take it.”

“Well I’d rather have this than have to deal with you drunk.” He sipped part of it, letting out a small hum. “This is actually decent, and you don’t seemed to have poisoned me yet. So that’s a bonus.” 

Bill snorted at this, taking a drink of his newly refilled whiskey. “Paranoid are we?”

“I have my reasons. Good ones at that, how many guns do you have today?” Bill seemed to stop and think at this, patting his suit jacket slightly before responding.

“Two” 

Dipper choked on his drink, turning back to him, “Seriously? I was joking!”

“Well, if you were anything like me, carrying gats on you would be a necessity over a comfort.” At this point, Bill was starting his third whiskey, and Dipper was slowly finishing his drink. He could sense a warm feeling settling in his stomach, the room seeming that more light. He chose to ignore Bill’s comment and focus instead on his tipsiness, and he found his gaze traveling over to the other.

The yellow light of the bar made his hair look radiant, picking up its yellow tones. His eyes were a liquid gold, his skin a lightly tanned bronze. The man looked like he had been touched by Midas.

Of course, he was caught staring and Bill made a snarky comment that Dipper didn’t catch, causing the other man to let out a chuckle. This didn’t stop him from staring, even his laugh was melodious tonight. It was then that Dipper realized how much of a lightweight he was, and what a small dose of alcohol had done to him. Even his small mannerisms made him feel like he was sitting under the sun. 

_I mean, of course I don’t like Bill. I like dolls, just like everyone else. A person can appreciate another person without it being like that! Yeah, everyone knows that Bill’s got it. Wait, what?_ Dipper thought to himself, before putting a hand to his forehead and letting out a single word.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is based off the song: "Trade Mistakes" by Panic! at the Disco
> 
> Gahh I am so sorry I keep having long breaks between chapter updates. I'm rather busy this summer, so my apologies for not updating in such a long time. I've been going on vacation, prepping for a convention soon, and my birthday is this week!! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you have any suggestions, or something you want to tell me, leave a comment! (I respond to all of my comments!)  
> I'll see you next time lovelies!~


	4. I Will Fear the Night Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include:  
> Blood  
> Violence  
> Brief suicidal thoughts  
> Alcohol use and abuse  
> Death

Bill's rule in life was to stay detached. He found it much easier and painless to keep it that way. After all, he did work in organized crime. He had no choice but to keep his emotions away from his job. He bottled them up instead, letting every shot play a melody in his brain, until his job was music to his ears.  
But this time, there was a crescendo that made the yelling and squealing of tires unbearable to hear. Everything was loud, far too loud, the world threatening to deafen the man. 

Until, it finally did.

He was alone, with the body. The body of his friend, the one person he had grown attached to. His brain blocked out every sound, every noise of the city around him, hearing only silence. He knew Tad was long gone, considering how much lead they had pumped into him. He took one last look at his friend, staring at the corpse he was cradling in his arms. Ever since the shots had been fired, Bill had been holding him, telling him it would be okay. Of course it wouldn't be okay, they were both very aware of that fact. 

He picked Tad up and placed him next to him. His body was sitting up, as if they had traveled back in time to the two of them leaning against alley walls, drinking hootch and laughing until there wasn't enough air in their lungs to continue.

He got up, on feet he wasn't sure would carry him back to his apartment.  
The walking, the opening of the door, all of it was a blur that Bill could barely remember. Until he was standing over the sink, finally looking at his arms. They were coated in thick, rusty red.  
His hand shook as he picked up the soap, trying to wash it away, but all he could see was red. The dark liquid that had seeped through Tad's shirt mere minutes before.

He kept scrubbing.

The memory of that night could never be washed away, it would reside until he too joined him in the alley way once more. 

He scrubbed harder.

The layers of blood had been gone a long time ago, but he kept washing and washing. His arms were bright pink. He shut off the tap, but the world was still deafened to him. It was as if someone had stuffed cotton inside his ears, making everything muffled and quiet, but not completely silent. No, he could hear the gunshots. He could hear the scream. He could hear Tad's voice, from months ago.

"Listen"  
_no_  
"You're the only person you've got, okay?"  
_no_  
"You have to live with yourself your whole life."  
_i wish i didn't ___  
"No one else does, only you. So you have to take steps to be who you want"  
_but how_  
"Unless this is who you want to be, you can't be doing this. You've got to recover."  
_but i can't without you_

__He found himself on the bathroom floor, a bottle of scotch in hand, chugging it down like it was the antidote to a fatal poison, and to him, it was. It was all he had known for a long time, drink after drink flowing past his lips, each time a bullet was fired from his gun._ _

__Bill had always hoped that he would be a happy drunk, that it would help him forget. All it did was make him numb, but that was enough for him. For most nights at least._ _

__Every time it took more and more to make him feel nothing, but there wasn't enough alcohol on the planet to undo what had been done tonight._ _

__Forgetting isn’t easy._ _

__But he tried to._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is based off the song: Truce by Twenty One Pilots  
> I have no excuse for what I have done.  
> Not one.  
> I'm not even sorry for the sharp turn this took, but believe me, there's a storm coming. (Also sorry I write in such short chapters!)  
> Thank you for all your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and such! I love waking up to a new comment, it makes my day.  
> Hope you all enjoyed. Toodles!~


	5. Little Bit of Poison in Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include:  
> Blood  
> Alcohol  
> Alcohol Abuse  
> Mentions of death

He had left his window open.  
All night his window had been open the entire time to let the breeze in, and Bill was too distracted to notice.

Which of course, now resulted in a certain brown haired man knocking at his door. What did Bill expect to happen? He had stormed in, running into his furniture, and later found himself smashing bottles at his feet. He wasn’t sure if that was a result of how plastered he was, or if he just needed to take out Tad’s death on something, anything really.

Now that he took a look around, even with his vision more impaired than normal, he could see that holy shit, his apartment was a mess. His possessions were thrown about and broken glass littered the corner in which he had been sitting.  
The pounding at his door insisted, and he knew it was Dipper. Who else would be up this late, not to mention care?

“Bill, Bill?” Dipper yelled from the other side of the locked door.

_Shit._ he thought, _He’s been out there for a while and I still haven’t responded._

“What’s the news, kid?” he yelled back, a slight slur to be heard in his speech.

“I could hear you from across the alley, either open up or I’m coming in myself.” Bill chuckled at this statement. Considering how many locks he had on his door, he seriously doubted that Dipper could kick his way through. Yet he knew that the other would persist until his voice gave out.

The two had gotten rather close in the short time they had known each other. Since his first time in a speakeasy, Bill had taken him out to other gin joints about the city. He often refused, staying sober for the evening, but occasionally accepted the alcohol. When he did, Dipper spent the evening laughing, and Bill could never help but smile along.

Before he knew it, Dipper was inside, staring at him with wide eyes. Fuck. Bill hadn’t locked the door when he came in, simply rushed straight for the sink.

There was screaming, loud screaming like someone had been murdered. Well they had, but Dipper didn’t know that, did he?  
The next thing Bill knew, the other was gone, door still wide open. Bill looked around to see what he could be screaming at, before looking down at himself. His neat white shirt was covered with drying blood, the rest of his suit spattered with the liquid. He was living evidence of the murder, and he was sure that Dipper could see the signs of death. He wasn’t stupid after all, the writer was far from it.

Bill laid down amongst the broken glass, ignoring the sting of small cuts being inflicted on him. He took another swig from the bottle, spilling some on his button up. He didn’t care of course, he simply hoped it would wash away some of the blood. Then something occurred to him, his thought process slowed significantly by the alcohol.

Tad was gone, never able to come back

Dipper was gone, never willing to come back.

He sat in his corner, trying to find something to take his mind off of the fact that his only two friends had left him. Was he at the point where he could call Dipper a friend? Something about that felt wrong, like there was another label that needed to be put on his feelings for the brunet.

He chugged down more booze, finishing the bottle, shattering it like the ones previously.

As his vision began to fade and turn to black, he could hear Tad’s voice.

“Keep this kid out of trouble, he doesn’t need any more than what you’ve already given him.”

_He left. He’s safe now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst! I'm really not sorry, whoops. Hope you all are enjoying so far! (Or suffering, whichever).  
> Also we got over 100 kudos, I'm so happy! I appreciate all of your reads, kudos, bookmarks, and especially comments!  
> Feel free to talk to me via comments, I always respond to them.  
> Have a nice day all!~
> 
> The title of this chapter was based off the song "Tag You're It" by Melanie Martinez.


	6. I May Never Sleep Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include:
> 
> Referenced character death  
> General implications of illegal activity  
> Mentioned alcohol use, blood, and violence.

Dipper’s lungs were not functioning the way they were expected to. It seemed as if he couldn’t get any air, despite his quick and desperate breaths. He was drowning in his own thoughts, salty sea water on his tongue instead of words. They were not necessary as he was alone, or at least hoped he was, but he had always felt comfort in language. The clacking of a typewriter or the way certain words rolled off the tongue so smoothly put the male at peace. 

He was sitting with his knees pulled up close to his chest, back resting against the sturdy wood of his door, hoping that no one would knock. The brunet could not manage to recall if he had locked his door, but every ounce of his being prayed that he had. He continued hyperventilating as his mind tried to process what had just happened.

_Bill was drunk. He killed someone._

This repeated over and over, a mantra running through his head. He had begun to shake out of fear and uncertainty. He tried to piece together a possibility in which Bill was innocent. It was next to impossible. The blond was sitting there, covered in drying blood that was clearly not his own. 

Or was it?

It had to be another’s, he was a part of the most dangerous gang in the city, he killed people for a living. Why else would he carry so many weapons, frequent illegal establishments, and constantly carry alcohol on him? 

He was anything but an honest business man, but the thought of him actually pulling the trigger never crossed Dipper’s mind. He had spent enough time with Bill to get to know the suave man, even grow fond of him.

He tried to think of the paper airplanes, the evenings at speakeasies, even the night the two met, but all he could get through his mind was:

_He killed someone_

The phrase was still repeating in his head, until a dangerous thought, fueled by fear, occurred to him. 

_He could kill me too._

No, he would not allow himself to think like that. Bill may not be the most polite or kind, but he had been a good friend to Dipper. He tried to concentrate on the little things about Bill to keep out reality. 

How the word ‘liquor’ slipped from his mouth easily. The way his smile lit up his features, much like the bar lights had lit his hair in an angelic glow during their first adventure into the night. His suits were always crisp and wrinkle free, not a single stain to be seen. Until just a few minutes prior to Dipper’s retreat back into his own home. 

The Pines man tried to think from another standpoint to figure out what had happened. While his brain wasn't working as quickly as it would under normal circumstances, he did manage to question one thing. 

_Why was he drunk?_  
…  
 _Shit._

Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong with Bill, and here he was hiding from it. Was he sure as to what it was or how to handle it? Of course not.

He pulled his head out from between shaky legs and looked up to the right of his desk, where it all began. 

Did he have to try?

Absolutely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no excuses for the long break between chapters or how short this one is. 
> 
> Life's smacking me in the face right now, not to mention I'm busy as fuck almost 24/7. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and that your hearts are broken into even smaller fragments now. Hey, there is some hope though!
> 
> The title of this chapter is based off the song "Trade Mistakes" by Panic! at the Disco


	7. All You Did Will Be Undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include:  
> References to death

When one gets into a dangerous situation, the brain will often put the body on autopilot because it cannot handle the event itself. Sometimes the Sympathetic Nervous System chooses fight, other times flight, a process that Dipper knew all too well.  
He had spent much of his childhood getting into hijinks with his twin sister which often activated this autopilot, more often than not a result of his own nerves rather than the actual threat of immediate harm. 

This time he wasn’t so sure which was causing his feet to move on their own, walking down the stairs, the street, and up to Bill’s apartment. He didn’t know what compelled him to turn the doorknob or walk over to the man lying on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass. 

The brunet’s brain was fogged, he could not understand what he was doing until he saw himself performing the action. As he grabbed a bucket from under the sink, filling it with cold water, two pieces of information trickled into his mind that Dipper was relieved to know. 

Bill was breathing and had a pulse. 

Bill was alive.

He had only a vague recollection of stooping down to press his fingers to the warm skin of the other’s neck, and watching his chest rise and fall, albeit with shallow breaths.

This is what brought Dipper back down to Earth, the fact that he could help, that there was hope for the blond. Worries began spilling through his mind once again as he turned off the faucet and brought the bucket of cold water over to the man. Normally, he would have had reservations in doing this, in fear of making a mess. The current state of the room and the pressing issue at hand was enough to dismiss that thought, and push him forward to dump the container of icy water over Bill’s motionless form.

He certainly did not stay motionless for long after that, jolting awake and upwards into a sitting position with a yell. He was about to let loose a string of profanities before he realized who was in the room with him, eyes widening before forming into a glare.

“Are you unfamiliar with the phrase ‘a rude awakening’?”, he deadpanned, a hand coming up to his head with a groan of pain. Dipper kneeled down next to him, his brows scrunched together in concern, reaching out to the other.

“Bill are you-”

“Leave.” 

Caught by surprise at the sharp edge to Bill’s tone and the words that escaped his mouth, Dipper could only stare at him for a moment, not completely sure he had heard him right.

“What?”

“I said leave.”, the blond said coldly with his head bowed. His elbow rested on the leg below it, his slender fingers covering his forehead. No longer in shock, Dipper felt a sudden surge of confidence.

“No.” Before he could be cut off once again, he said it again with more forcefulness in his tone. 

“No. I’m not leaving, Bill, and you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” Bill turned his head towards him, his arm falling to the side. He wore an expression of pure disbelief, eyes wide and brows raised. 

“Why are you here?” The chill in his voice had left, replaced by a quiet crack. His facade of confidence had broken, leaving him exposed to whatever Dipper chose to say.

“I’m here because I care.”

A heartbeat later, Bill had crumpled in on Dipper, his chest heaving and shaking with sobs that the author never thought he would hear, surprised they were actually coming from Bill. The suave mobster who could pass off even a break in with confidence and charm was crying. Soon, Dipper felt his hands meet Bill’s back, rubbing it reassuringly as he mumbled to him that everything would be okay.

The blond told him the story that night, tears flowing as the explanation of Tad’s death came pouring out of him.

The two sat in silence once the tale was over, Bill still resting in Dipper’s arms.

The silence wasn’t nearly as oppressive to the blond when there was someone there to fill it. 

Dipper didn’t fill the void of sound with his voice, but his presence was enough.

He was glad that Dipper hadn’t listened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is based off the song "Taxi Cab" by Twenty One Pilots
> 
> So...  
> That just happened.  
> I do not apologize for breaking any hearts again. Again.  
> Hey, on the bright side, winter break is coming up and my updates should become more regular. I also made a tumblr so you all can contact me, so give it a whirl! (woahtheresparky.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this, and enjoying it enough to leave comments, kudos, and bookmarks. I really do appreciate you all.


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